Her distress didn't really move him. He watched with a detached interest that wasn't much different from what he might have exhibited when he was alive. "Of course it wasn't an accident," he said, scowling deeply. "Even if Slughorn was as incompetant as he pretends to be, which is hardly possible, he could not have wrought such thorough destruction."
An accident. The very idea was preposterous. He was trying to place the girl's name, when she barked out a question. He turned to face her again. "Where exactly do you think I ought to be if not here?"